


The Man Who Knew Too Much

by malkinmalkout



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternative Universe - Mafia, Flash! Bang! Hockey Exchange, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fill, Russians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malkinmalkout/pseuds/malkinmalkout
Summary: When Evgeni is forced to take part in a live action improv play he realises there is very little difference between being part of the mafia and being a spy.





	The Man Who Knew Too Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshinexbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/gifts).



> This fic is for sunshinexbomb who requested Evgeni Malkin in a spy au. I hope you don’t mind my spin on it since I recently watched ‘The Man Who Knew Too Little’ and was inspired.

“Isn’t it such a lovely day,” Alex said in Russian from beside Evgeni.

The sun was only just beginning to rise over the large Washington DC port. The smog and pollution that constantly gathered in the sky only made the red and orange streaks of colour stand out more as the growing sun shined on the busy group of men loading boxes into trucks.  

“Yeah, it’s a perfect day for smuggling contraband weapons and electronics into unregistered trucks,” Evgeni sarcastically agreed.

Alex placed a hand over his heart as if he had been struck. “You’re so rude to your favourite boss. After all I’ve done for you - liberating you from that uninspired coal mining job you had in Magnitogorsk, getting you over to America, and setting you up with an amazing opportunity to protect me and live in luxury. You’re fired.”

Evgeni rolled his eyes at the familiar threat and tuned out Alex’s dramatics as he stood on guard for any suspicious activity that they didn’t have anything to do with. Seeing that Nicklas was efficiently directing everyone in his typical cool and calm fashion Evgeni let himself answer Alex.

“You took me from my family and a hardworking honest job to play bodyguard in a strange foreign country for the leader of the Russian mafia. I would love to be fired if that didn’t have such a literal implication.”

Alex scoffed, “You’re my oldest friend, I’d never do that to you… You’d get the  _special_ firing treatment,” he said ominously.

“Hey!” Nicklas shouted as he ran over. His expensive shoes scraped on the asphalt as he ground to a halt in front of them. “Sorry to cut this gossip session short but it looks like we have a curious little bird fluttering around,” he said directing them with a pointed finger over to a concerned looking security guard.

The two Russians swore.

Evgeni’s sharp eyes caught the growing tension amongst Alex’s workers as the stranger moved in closer to their operation. He had been working with these people long enough to know a few of them had itchy trigger fingers in affairs like this, so he needed to be quick.

“I’ve got this,” he said shortly to Alex and Nicklas before moving in long strides over to the outsider.

As he got closer he was both dismayed and heartened to see that the unfortunate security guard was quite young, probably still under the American drinking age. The young man’s eyes grew wide as he spotted Evgeni’s tall visage coming towards him, watching as the labourers scrambled to move out of his way.

“Um, sorry to interrupt but I-I have to ask you what you’re loading today. It’s, um, policy. Sorry,” the security guard stuttered as Evgeni pulled up in front of him.

Since he really didn’t want to kill the kid Evgeni decided to see if he could fool him into leaving. So he gave the security guard the same egotistical smile he had often seen on Alex’s face and spoke in his best English, “I’m Ivan Fedorov the USA branch manager for Госкорпорация Ростех.”

“Oh, okay, I… I’m sorry but I don’t recognise that company,” the kid said fidgeting with his clipboard nervously.

“Of course,” Evgeni nodded, “It stand for State Corporation for Assistance to Development, Production and Export of Advanced Technology Industrial Product or just Rostec to our American friends. Would give you business card but sadly it all in Russian, hope you understand.”

“R-Right of course. I get it, it’s no problem,” the kid said despite obviously still not understanding at all. “And, um, what’s in all the boxes?” He asked trying and failing to peer around Evgeni’s broad shoulders.

“We Rostec, a federal company, so it mainly defence technology but cannot say too much because it very classified. Have ex-KGB government man making sure we keep quiet,” he whispered conspiratorially and indicated towards Alex, who was doing a good job of looking mysterious in his outrageously expensive black suit and dark sunglasses.

“Oh,” the kid squeaked and bit at his lip in conflict, “My manager said I should probably check inside some of the boxes just in case…” He trailed off, sweating under Evgeni’s narrowed glare.

“I see... This because we Russian. Typical American think we bad guys and still hate us for Cold War. So much for land of freedom. So racist.”

The kid spluttered in denial, “W-what? No. I’m not racist! Sorry, I-I mean I’m sure you’re fine. I should go, I need to finish my rounds near the ships. Sorry. Bye.” The kid weakly waved and slunk off, shoulders up to his ears in embarrassment.

Evgeni sighed in relief and walked back over to a grinning Alex and unimpressed Nicklas.

“That was an easy target Evgeni, he was young and malleable, so I’ll give you a six and a half,” said Nicklas in accented Russian.

Evgeni crossed his arms, “I at least deserve seven out of ten, I had to convince him Alex was ex-KGB and working for the government.”

“Ahh, that does sounds like quite the impossible task, so I’ll allow you a seven this time,” said Nicklas with false sincerity and ignoring Alex’s noises of offence he walk off to browbeat the gawking labourers into getting back to work.

Alex raised an eyebrow at him, “So why exactly am I now working for the government?”

“I had to convince the kid we were on an undercover mission for Rostec,” said Evgeni shrugging.

“You know it would have been much easier to just kill him, it is part of your job - I mean your real job,” Alex said in a casual tone, as if he were merely discussing the weather.

Evgeni pursed his lips wondering if this was some sort of test. “Less mess to clean up this way.”

Alex smirked, “You can’t fool me so easily my friend, I know you too well. You act like a big scary Russian bear but underneath instead of blood and guts you have soft stuffing.”

“I’m not a teddy bear,” he growled.

“Maybe you won’t be if you continue to completely dedicate yourself to my business. But I like you with a bit of cushion, at least one of us should have morals,” Alex said with a layer of bitterness.

Evgeni didn’t bother to counter him, it never did any good when Alex got like this - weighed down by all the terrible things he had orchestrated in order to protect everyone in his Family.

“You should get a hobby,” Alex continued, starting to look more lively.

“I have a hobby.”

Alex waved a hand in dismissal. “Playing ice hockey with me and the other guys in the Family doesn’t count. I mean a hobby that has nothing to do with anyone you know, with friends who aren’t major crime lords.”

A cold shiver shot up Evgeni’s spine. He had a feeling this was going to lead to somewhere terrible.

“I know!” Alex exclaimed beaming at him, “Since you’re so good at BSing I’ll join you up with that popular ‘Theatre of Life’ group that makes people become a character in real life improv scenes.”

“No.”

Alex gave him a smug look, “If you don’t do it I’ll make you Braden Holtby’s assistant down in PR. You’ll get to help him with the marketing for my shell companies, meaning lots of interviews and dealing with angry customers and sucking up to stuffy capitalists at under catered dinner parties-”

He cut Alex off. “Okay! I get it. I’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It was good doing business with you,” said Alex sticking out his hand

Evgeni grudgingly shook it. “No. It really wasn’t.”

_X_

“Here it is,” Alex said gesturing to the innocent looking public phone situated in the almost deserted and untidy North-East Washington street. “They’ll ring you on this and set up your character identity and tell you where to go.”

Evgeni couldn’t stop himself from frowning at the strange situation he had found himself in. He wasn’t an actor and neither could he see how this would help him in making non-criminal friends; So why exactly did Alex think this was a good idea? But then again being friends with someone as chaotic as Alex it was pretty impossible to track his thought process or tell him no.

Alex slapped in on the shoulder, knocking him out of his uncharitable musings. “Don’t be so grumpy. After you finish up just give me a ring and we’ll talk about how much fun you had while relaxing in my personal sauna. I’ll even give you one of my special Ambassador Cigars to smoke.”

Despite his aversion smoking the idea of getting Alex to show him where his prized cigars are seemed like the first good idea Alex had suggested all day. Stealing his boss’ supply of cigars would be good revenge for forcing him to go through with this humiliating experience.

“Fine.”

“Wonderful,” Alex clapped. “I’ll be off then, my people need me.”

Evgeni watched him climb into his fire engine red lamborghini that looked so out of place among the scrappy cars lined along the side of the road. The tinted window whirred down enough for Alex to give him one last wave goodbye before driving off.

Soon after the phone rung out. The sound echoed out into the empty street Alex had abandoned him in. He hesitantly picked up the receiver and listened closely.

“Is this Volya?” Asked a deep voice in perfect Russian.

Automatically he replied affirmative in the same language.

Evgeni was baffled. Alex had said this was an American acting group, so why were they speaking Russian? Maybe Alex was paying them more to speak Russian because of Evgeni’s persisting troubles with English. But that seemed far too nice for Alex, so maybe it was Nicklas’ idea.

Before he could lose himself to his attempts to rationalise Alex’s motives the voice quickly continued, “Good. Your orders are to go to 1803 H street here in the North-East quadrant. You will find and eliminate the target there. Use caution, they may be armed. After you will dispose of the body and we will deliver your payment. Do you understand?”

He closed his eyes and mentally repeated the address in his head to memorise it. “Got it,” he said and only heard dialtone in reply.

Evgeni hung up the phone and huffed in amusement, this all seemed far too familiar. He might as well being doing a job for Alex.

Checking his phone he was glad to see that the address the theatre group had given him was only a few blocks east.

He was only halfway down the street when he distantly heard the payphone ring again, making him turn around in curiosity. Evgeni watched a cloaked figure cross the road in measured steps and answered it. In under thirty seconds the person hung up and walked into a nearby building. Deciding it was none of his business Evgeni focused his attention back east and walked away.

_/\\_

He stood in front of the flimsy fence that lined the overgrown lawn that acted as a five metre runway up to the almost identical small two story apartments. Evgeni assessed the target’s house, which had peeling pink paint and an unhinged door that made the barred windows completely redundant.

Evgeni cautiously made his way into the house, acting as if he normally would in a hostile foreign building containing a potential enemy. He scanned the front rooms that combined into a living room and an open kitchen. They both featured Spartan decorations and gave off an impersonal air, as if whoever lived here was never home or maybe a pod person.

As he closed the barren pantry door he heard the crash of glass from upstairs which was followed by a strangled yelp.

That sounded like his cue.

He swiftly and quietly climbed the stairs and made his way over to the door of the room where all the noise was coming from. Unsure what the actors wanted him to do Evgeni knocked on the door and swung it open.

A gun was pointed at his head.

Muscle memory took over as Evgeni grabbed his would-be murderer’s wrist and twisted it at an uncomfortable angle. The man attached to the wrist cried out in pain and dropped the gun in surprise, allowing Evgeni to quickly claim it as his own and point it back at the other man.

“Doesn’t feel so good does it,” Evgeni asked rhetorically in Russian as he continued to level the gun at the older man.

The stranger swore at him.

Now that he wasn’t in so much danger Evgeni surveyed the other man. He looked pale and drained of energy, as if he had not eaten or slept in days. His clothing would have once been quite fashionable in Russia a few years ago but now they looked off colour, as if they had been scrubbed of all personality.

Either the ‘Theater of Life’ was funnelling all their funds into their costume department or they had some very serious method actors.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

The stranger only glared back at him and rubbed at his sore wrist.

Evgeni was filled with guilt. Maybe the actor weren’t prepared for a man of his skill set for their scenario. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I know self-defence, so it was an automatic reaction to you pointing a weapon at me,” he explained.

“Is continuing to point the gun at me also an automatic reaction?” The stranger asked in a no-nonsense tone.

Evgeni lowered the gun, but still made sure to keep his hand tense just in case it was a trap to make him let down his guard.

“Who are you?”

The stranger tsked. “So you’re just a brainless assassin then. Not even taking the time to learn the name of whoever your leaders send you to murder,” he growled, voice laced with disgust.

Evgeni felt a lump grow in his throat at the stranger's harsh words as they hit too close to reality. “No. I want to be the good guy for once…” He mumbled at the floor.

“What?”

Straightening up to his full height Evgeni locked eyes with the man. “Can I be the good guy?”

This question drained most of the anger from the stranger as he frowned at him in confusion. “You want to help me?” He asked disbelieving.

“Are you the good guy?” Evgeni questioned back.

“I’d like to think so…” The stranger said hesitantly but then gained more confidence in his answer, “Yes. I’m doing the right thing, so I’m the ‘good guy’ here.”

Seeing the stranger's resolve Evgeni became fully committed to switch up the scene, “Then I want to help you. What is your name? Do you know why I was sent to kill you?”

The stranger pursed his lips and seemed to internally debate his options. However since Evgeni had the upperhand with his gun the stranger decided to test his luck. “You can call me Gonch. I think you were sent to kill me because I’m part of the FBI. I was undercover in a group of radical Russian nationalists called the RFR but my cover was blown when I stole incriminating emails about plans they have in America.”

Wow this improv play was even more exciting than he first realised.

“What are their plans? Where are the emails now?”

“They’re on a usb stick. I’m not giving it to you, I don’t completely trust you yet,” Gonch said unyielding and purposely ignoring Evgeni’s first question.

He was about to argue for more information when he heard movements downstairs. Judging by the resignation on Gonch’s face he could also hear whoever was rummaging around his apartment.

“They must have sent someone further up the chain to find the emails,” Gonch guessed.

Evgeni debated over whether he should go confront the new character, he didn’t want Gonch to get killed off if the other actor decided to follow through with their first plot.

“I’ll go check it out, please stay here,” he told Gonch, who looked very unimpressed to be ordered around by a man at least ten years his junior, even if he did have a gun.

Evgeni carefully crept back down the stairs and spied a tall hooded figure scrounging through Gonch’s dresser drawers.

“Find anything good?” Evgeni cockily asked in Russian to the now rigidly frozen person.

“No, but I think perhaps you can help me,” the mystery man said emotionlessly as his hand subtlety reached for his jumper pocket.

“Stop moving or I’ll shoot,” Evgeni warned. “Hand where I can see them and face me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working for us?” The man asked as he met Evgeni’s eyes. He had the sort of face that would blend in seamlessly amongst a crowd - and yet he still gave off an aura of familiarity. Maybe he had acted in one of the obscure indie action movies Alex had forced him to watch on one of their many Family bonding nights.

He shrugged, “I changed my mind, I want to be a good guy. Who are you?”

“I’m Bobrovsky.” The man's face remained neutral as he talked, “There are no good or bad guys here, not everything is so simple. You can’t just do whatever you want.”

Evgeni narrowed his eyes. Was the actor trying to tell him he couldn’t change the plot? “My boss payed good money to get me here so I don’t see why I can’t get some fun out of this situation before I leave to go steal some Ambassadors.”

Bobrovsky finally showed some emotions as his jaw clenched. “How do you know about the Ambassadors?” He gritted in surprise.

Evgeni scrambled for a moment over what to say, it didn’t sound like the actor was talking about cigars. “I have my sources,” he said vaguely.

“You can’t interfere,” Bobrovsky asserted.

“What are you offering?”

“I need to ask my superior first,” Bobrovsky said through his teeth and reached into his pocket and started to text.

Evgeni was content to lean against the wall and wait patiently, all the while trying to guess what the next scene the ‘Theatre of Life’ had put together would be. Judging from his previous experiences in affairs like this they would offer him a significant amount of money in a shady drop zone.

His assumptions were proven correct when Bobovsky looked up from his phone and relayed the plan his boss had arranged. “We can give you forty million rubles in exchange for the usb and the man Sergei Gonchar, who goes by the atlas Gonch. But we want to do the swap on our territory here in the North-East.”

Normally he would put up a fight on the money amount and doing such a massive trade on enemy turf or at a place he hasn’t staked out before but since the ‘Theatre of Life’ had likely only organised one specific spot for their scene he would have to deal with it this time.

Bobrovsky’s mouth remained a flat neutral line as Evgeni accepted these terms. He nodded once and leaned over the dresser he had previously been trashing and wrote down the address on a scrap of paper and flicked it over to Evgeni.

“We will be ready in twenty minutes,” he said succinctly and strode out the front entrance, slamming the broken door behind him.

Now that was all sorted Evgeni went back upstairs but was wholly unsurprised to find sheets tied to the bed like an escape rope leading out the open window and down to the back entrance.

Evgeni stuck his head out the window immediately spotted Gonch speedily making his way towards a rusting volkswagen beetle.

Swearing colourfully he impulsively climbed out the window as well. The sheets pulled tight and swung dangerously as he scrambled and slipped downwards. Evgeni skillfully jumped the remaining two metres, rolling briefly on the ground to take the pressure off his ankles, and leaping into a sprint after Gonch.

Luckily he was in time to wrench open the passenger door and squeeze himself in just as Gonch was beginning to drive off.

“Hello,” Evgeni panted, trying to regain his breath from the chase.

“Hello.” Gonch replied tensely.

“I thought I told you to wait for me?”

Gonch’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as he sailed around a corner. “I thought you wanted to be the good guy. But I guess we were both lying huh?”

Evgeni slumped in his seat as he realised why Gonch was so mad. “I wasn’t really going to sell you out. I just told Bobovsky whatever he wanted to hear to get him to leave,” he explained.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re telling me you wouldn’t trade me and my usb for forty million rubles?” Gonch accused, briefly looking away from the road to frown harshly at Evgeni.

He could only shrug. “Of course. I have plenty of money - more than I know what to do with. It’s not real anyway,” he said honestly. “Plus I like you more than Bobrovsky, he was acting like a robot - like he had no emotions. I don’t think he really knows his character that well.”

“You’re crazy,” Gonch sighed but Evgeni saw his lips curling into a minuscule smile at his reassurances.  

“I’ve been told all the best people are,” he chirped.

As they pulled up to a red light Evgeni handed the paper with the address on it over to Gonch. “We need to go here, I don’t know how else to progress the plot so we might as well check it out.”

“Crazy,” Gonch mumbled again and narrowed his eyes at Evgeni, “Are you just winging this!?”

“My boss told me to have fun,” he pouted in the face of Gonch’s severe look. He squared his shoulders and attempted to radiate seriousness, “I know what I’m doing. I won’t let you get hurt. You can drop me off nearby and stay safely in the car.”

“No.” Gonch refused and started to drive again when the light changed to green.

Evgeni pursed his lips in frustration. “Yes.” He insisted, “Remember that I still have a gun.”

“You’re not going to use it on me,” Gonch said, easily reading him.

“Try me,” Evgeni challenged.

He let Gonch strew over what to do, confident that he would go with Evgeni’s idea.

“Fine!” Gonch shouted and made a illegal U-turn. He didn’t even look away from the road this time as he said “And stop looking so smug.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evgeni said smugly. “So are you going to tell me about the RFR’s nefarious plans for the Ambassadors?”

“Yeah why not, I haven’t got anything else to lose,” Gonch said with a defeated air. “I only had a minor part in their logistics division here in Washington but I was able to access the emails of someone higher up. Turns out they are trying to kidnap the American and Canadian Ambassadors Phil Kessel and Sidney Crosby. They want to kill them and stage it like the actual Russian government was behind the whole thing.”

“What? Why?” he asked riveted.

“Because they’re right-wing nationalists. I think they’re hoping to get an even tougher embargo on Western countries exporting into Russia. When I was undercover I’d always hear speeches on how Western businesses like McDonald's were contaminating and destroying traditional Russian culture.”

Evgeni shook his head, “No. Something like that could mean war. Like an actual world war.”

Gonch remained gravely silent.

“What are you going to do with the usb?” Evgeni interrogated.

“I was going to give it to my team leader in the FBI. But right now it really isn’t safe for me to go back to the station since almost everyone there thinks I legitimately betrayed them....” He trailed off and caught Evgeni’s eyes when they pulled up to another intersection, “I don’t think you need to be worried, stuff like this is covered up all the time. America can’t risk a nuclear war.”

Evgeni only grunted, reminding himself that no matter what his gut was telling him this wasn’t real. It was all an act.

He was literally yanked from his thoughts when Gonch suddenly braked and sounded his horn as a car rear ended them. The other driver only continued to accelerate, pushing him and Gonch further into the busy intersection.

He twisted in his seat and looked through the back window. Cheekily smiling back at him was Mr Universe himself, Ilya Bryzgalov. Evgeni gave him the middle-finger salute.

“What’s happening!?” Shouted Gonch, struggling to keep his foot pushed down on the squealing brake pedal while keeping one hand steady on the gearstick.

“It’s Ilya Bryzgalov,” Evgeni snarled, angry at himself for getting an innocent actor involved in his mafia life. Before he could admit this Gonch swore and changed gears.

“We have to lose him, there is no way I’m letting myself be killed by a man who believes in aliens.” With that declaration he put his foot flat on the accelerator and sped through the brief gap in traffic. Evgeni could only hold on for the death defying ride.

As Gonch swerved down a side street he demanded, “How do you know Ilya!?”

But Gonch only shifted gears again and growled, “Not. Now.”

He yelled as Gonch flew over a speed bump. The volkswagen went flying for a heart-stopping moment before swiftly crashing down, making the car bounce and spark as metal scrapped the asfalt. Evgeni wondered how the wheels hadn’t fallen off yet.

Gonch made his way further away from the city into less busy streets, all the while dodging police and shots fired out from Ilya’s car.

Evgeni reached for his own gun but was stopped when Gonch slapped at his hand all the while speeding around a sharp corner.

“Don’t,” he said bluntly, “I’ve got this.”

Reluctantly Evgeni followed Gonch’s lead and put the gun back into his the holster that was sewn into the inside of his suit jacket.

It only took a few more sudden swerves into narrow urban streets before Gonch drove the car neatly into a random garage. Evgeni watched dumbstruck as Gonch tumbled out and pulled the sliding door down to engulf them in darkness.

Seconds later they both heard the loud revving of Ilya’s car as he drove past their hiding spot, swiftly followed by the wailing of police sirens.

Gonch waited for few minutes before he opened up the garage again and got back into the drivers seat.

“This was amazing,” Evgeni gushed as they turned onto back onto the road. He had been in a few car chases before but Gonch was by far the best he’d ever seen.

“It was nothing,” he said modestly, giving Evgeni his first real smile that reached his dark eyes. “We’re actually pretty close to the address Bobrovsky gave you.”

Now that the danger wasn’t so imminent Evgeni let himself meditate over the entire day. Slowly he put together all the hints and clues, rationalising why he had felt so comfortable acting as this incredibly realistic spy character the Theatre group had assigned him.

Evgeni pulled out his phone. “First I need to make a call.”

_X_

The warehouse for the exchange was falling apart as several of its walls had been rusted by the rain and the roof looked ready to collapse in on itself. It’s dismal state blended in well with the other abandoned garages and old factories. It was the perfect setup for storing illegal goods. Evgeni was pretty sure that Alex actually had a building around this area that was used as a secret stash for stolen electronics.

Crates and boxes were stacked inside the entrance of the metal warehouse, acting as barriers to create a path leading right to Bobrovsky who was standing alone in an open area. The dull man simply nodded in greeting when he saw Evgeni, as if he hadn’t just sent a famous assassin after him.

“I hope you got here alright,” Bobrovsky said.

Evgeni smirked cockily, “Yeah, no problem.”

He relished in the slight twitch of Bobrovsky’s eye at his subtle taunt. The man cleared his throat and continued, “And where is Sergei Gonchar? I believe our deal involved you handing the usb  _and_ him over for the money.”

“Don’t worry, I thought I’d save you the trouble so I took care of him,” Evgeni said tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking on the heels of his feet as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

The corner of Bobrovsky’s mouth pinched at him blatant carefree attitude and his hand twitched closer to the gun resting inside his belt.

Despite the growing danger Evgeni smiling goofily, acting completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere. “So where’s my money?” He pointedly looked at the floor which only featured dirt and filth, but no briefcases.

Bobrovsky finally pulled out his gun and aimed it at Evgeni. “There has been a change of plans. My superiors realised it would be more economical to just take the Ambassadors early and kill you and Gonchar now and liberate the usb from your corpse.”

Evgeni clenched his hands. “You have the Ambassadors? Here? Alive?” He fired the questions off rapidly.

Bobrovsky remained steady against Evgeni’s anger. “Of course, they are fine for now. We’re a thorough organisation Volya, it will take more than a washed up FBI agent and a failed spy to fool us,” he gloated.

A mocking laugh burst from Evgeni, causing Bobrovsky to step backwards. “I almost forgot. You still think I’m Volya - the spy you can buy,” he sang mockingly.

Bobrovsky’s hand tightened around his gun. “If you are not Volya then who exactly are you?” He rasped.

“I don’t think now is the right time to be asking such philosophical questions,” Evgeni tsked condescendingly and then hummed in thought, “I guess I go by many names… To my friends I’m known as Zhenya or Evgeni. To my subordinates I’m Comrade Malkin. But to you, my enemy, I am Geno, the right hand of Alexander the Great - the king of Washington’s criminal empire.”

Bobrovsky could only draw in a sharp hiss of shock before Nicklas pressed a gun against his skull. “Put the gun down,” the Swede said, his voice promising death if Bobrovsky disobeyed his command.

Once the gun was firmly on the floor Nicklas motioned over his apprentice, “André I believe the blue mercedes has an empty trunk at the moment which I think Bobrovsky will fit into nicely.”

The younger man eagerly muscled Bobrovsky off past a pile of crates and out the back entrance.

“Good timing,” Evgeni thanked Nicklas, slapping him friendlily on the shoulder.

“It’s my job,” he drawled coolly and then smoothly chirped, “Also I’m Alex’s right hand, you’re more of his right foot or maybe his big toe.”

Evgeni laughed in actual happiness for the first time all day.

“Zhenya! Nicky!” Alex shouted as he entered through the same passage of boxes as Evgeni. He was followed closely behind by a bemused Gonch and gleeful Ilya.

“Gonch! Are you alright? What is Mr Universe doing here?” Shouted Evgeni.

“I’m fine-” Gonch said before Alex interrupted.

“What? No hello or thank-you for your beloved boss for saving your life. And to think I missed you while you were off on your little adventure,” pouted Alex, as dramatic as always.

Gonch continued, ignoring Alex’s hysterics, “Somehow Alex the Great managed to convince Mr Bryzgalov here to join his… _Family_ ,” Gonch finished the last words while making quotation marks with his fingers.

“What can I say, people love me. I only needed to promise him he could be the goalie for our hockey games,” Alex said preening. “Are you sure you don’t want a job Gonch? I heard about all your good work during Zhenya’s phone call. Plus you’d make a great defenceman.”

“I’ll think I’ll manage,” Gonch responded neutrally. “But thanks.”

“Aww, that’s too bad,” whined Ilya, “You drive so beautifully, I was hoping for another friendly race.”

Gonch rolled his eyes. “Well if I get my job back at headquarters I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities for that.”

“Wait what about the Ambassadors?” Evgeni asked cutting through the playful bickering.

Nicklas didn’t look up from where he was texting on his phone as he replied “I’ve got it” and quickly disappeared out the back entrance.

“Are you sure you should be sending the Russian mafia to rescue the Ambassadors?” Asked Gonch. “Even if he is Swedish.”

Alex patted him on the back. “Not to worry, apparently Nicky is Swedish royalty! Sixteenth in line for the thrown,” he boasted with pride.

Evgeni raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You didn’t know that?” He prodded, “And here I thought you two were best friends.”

“Of course we are! It was just Nicky’s way of showing how well he can keep a secret,” Alex rationalised, bristling at Evgeni’s provocations.

“I don’t need to be here for this,” Gonch said, looking uncomfortable being surrounded by childishly arguing criminals. “I’m going after your Nicky to offer some official backup,” he stated and rushed off to catch up with Nicklas.

“Oh that sounds fun,” Ilya said rubbing his hands together, “Count me in!” He yelled, following close behind despite Gonch's heated protests.

Evgeni was left alone with a grinning Alex. “Did you know that was all going to happen? I mean - this whole World War Three plot?”

“Hmmm maybe,” Alex hummed, acting innocent. “But since you managed to still do some work for me as a spy instead of relaxing this does mean you’re going to have to get another non-criminal hobbie.”

“No way,” Evgeni balked.

But once again Alex went on heedless of Evgeni’s wishes. “You know I got the best idea when I was convincing Ilya to join our hockey team. I think we could have a real good opportunity to expand my sport stores if we had an official ice hockey player in our Family.”

Evgeni rubbed at his forehead, trying to repress his growing headache. “You want me to - what? - join the AHL? The KHL?”

“No no no,” Alex wagged his finger at him. “Think bigger,” he said emphasising his words by throwing out his arms, as if he wanted to engulf to world in a hug.

“That’s impossible. There is no way you can get me into the NHL.”

Alex’s cheshire grin only grew wider.

“Even if you manage it I won't do it,” Evgeni said firmly.

“Why not? Playing professional hockey will be so much more fun than being a fake spy,” Alex pointed out. “And if not there is still that assistant position available down in PR…” He said trailing off and thrust his hand forward to shake.

Evgeni sighed in defeat and accepted his new hobby as an NHL star.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed my fic and it fulfilled your expectations. Thanks for reading :)


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